


Buteo Jamaicensis

by skittykitty



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Depressing, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, but you're wrong, you're gonna think he might be okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: Hawkfrost spends his life living for others. Maybe he should try to live for himself.





	Buteo Jamaicensis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArcReactorsandDragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcReactorsandDragons/gifts).



His name was Hawk and he loved his mother. He loved his littermates as well, _obviously;_ but his mother was so much _more_ than them.

Mother was strong. Moth and Tadpole depended on her as much as Hawk himself did. She fed them fresh food.

Without her they would be dead.

He would make her proud of him. _No matter the cost._

* * *

 

It had been Tadpole’s idea.

_(Was mother proud? Was she proud of the lifeless husk that his brother had been reduced to? Must he die for her love?)_

The three of them left the nest to search for Father.

_(The unfamiliar nest flooded. Water pooled around their paws at first. Nothing to worry about, Tadpole had told them.)_

They had wandered through the towering buildings all day. Their feet _hurt._

 _(Mother had called out to them._ Why? _To assure them of their approaching demise?)_

They had gone into an abandoned nest.

_(Moth and Hawk had escaped.)_

_(Tadpole had drowned.)_

* * *

 

Mother was constantly around them after that. Constantly making sure the two _(no longer the three—the leader, the planner, and the cautious no longer)_ were where they were supposed to be.

It was only a short while before Mother snapped.

* * *

 

There was a large separation between what life was like before The Snap and _after_ The Snap.

Before they were a family of three. A family of Mother, who was the weakest of the strong.

_(Hawk was supposed to be asleep, but a quiet, almost inaudible sound roused him. What was it? Sniffing? What? He looked outside. His mother was turned away from the entrance of the nest. Hawk waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. She was crying—his mother was crying.)_

Moth, the calm and collected of them.

_(“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hawk’s fur bristled._

_Moth had this look in her eyes. Was she… pitying him? What right did she have to pity him?)_

And him, Hawk. What _was_ he now? Tadpole had been the leader, and he had planned everything.

He’d just have to take up more responsibility then.

No big deal.

* * *

 

Mother took them to Riverclan.

The water dominated the surroundings of their new home. Lakes ran throughout the whole area. Whether in tiny streams or enormous rivers, water soaked into everything in the land.

The grass was soggy at best, mud at its worst. Hawk grimaced, the mud got under his claws.

He had grown accustomed to Mother’s fresh-kill. Squirrels, mice, and other forest animals she had caught.

The tanginess was always somewhat bitter in his mouth, covered over by the sharp sting of salt he had never grown used to. The fish were oddly silky, extremely soft and pleasing to feel.

The idea of the fish was wonderful; they’d be ripe and fresh, would melt in your mouth. In reality, though, it was a cold meal sitting in soggy mud.

Hawk hated fish.

* * *

 

He was to be called _Hawkpaw_ now.

It was odd to be called by something similar to what he had been before, but so _different._

As Hawk he was a loner, with only his Mother and Moth as confidantes. As Hawk he was small, easily targeted; _weak._

As Hawkpaw he… belonged here. They didn’t give him odd, pensive looks anymore. They didn’t stare too long at his too thin body. At the ribs that subtly pushed out of his body. All the other cats were plump and even sometimes fat.

Was he still Hawk? Did he still have his mother and sister as confidantes? Did he have to throw away all bonds as Hawkpaw? Would he have to become someone different? Someone strong? Would he be allowed to be close to Moth still?

No.

They would force him to evolve, to rise above what he was before; to ascend.

He’d do better than that.

* * *

 

“Hawkpaw!” Leopardstar called, leading him to the marshes. Ick. He hated the marshes. He was used to _firm_ ground, thank you very much. Ground soaked in water always felt like it’d slip away under his paws.

That’s why he loved the Sunningrocks so much. There was flat land under his paws. And it was _warm_ _(just like his mother in the winter wrapped around him and his sister to keep them warm)_ and he _loved_ the warmth. It sunk into his bones and allowed him to truly relax.

Though, in the marsh after rain, there was only tenseness in his bones.

Hawk followed after his mentor, knowing no matter what he did he’d be forced to anyway. “What is it,” it was phrased as a question but was not. As all good questions should be phrased.

Leopardstar was not phased in the slightest.

“Today, we will be training with another apprentice. Since I know you hate having to pair off so often, I decided to set up Stormpaw as your delegated partner. Now, _bond,”_ and then she ran into the edge of the marsh, barely in sight, and left him alone.

Traitor.

“So… Hawkpaw?” Oh, that was Stormpaw. Did he _actually_ want to bond?

Ew, friendship.

“Uh… what’s your favorite prey?” Hawk looked him dead in the eyes, while showing no emotion.

“To hunt or to eat.” He growled out, “there’s a difference, idiot.”

Stormpaw crouched down in front of him, what was he doing? The tom continued to crawl towards him.

A snicker snuck out of the grey-furred toms mouth, “Do you really have no idea what I’m doing?”

Hawk felt pressured, so, obviously, he lied. “Of course I do.”

Stormpaw’s eyes lit up with a fire he hadn’t seen earlier. He lunged at Hawk, barreling him into the ground faster than he could process.

Air was torn out of his lungs from the impact, leaving him floundering under Stormpaw’s weight. As he gasped for breath, furiously trying to heave Stormpaw off of him with his hind legs, Stormpaw kept pressing him down.

“Do you even know how to swim?” Stormpaw didn’t have the… look in his eyes others got when being condescending. Was he just good at hiding it? Was he sincere?

He couldn’t be.

No one was that nice.

Anger flooded his eyes, “Of course not. This is my first lesson, idiot!” He finally got his hind paws under his stomach correctly, and _shoved._

Stormpaw gasped at the pain in his stomach; he was thrown off easily in his shock. He rolled a distance away, giving Hawk time to stand up.

After clambering onto his feet, he tried to drop into a similar crouch as Stormpaw had, but ultimately failed. Instead, he lurched forward toward the older apprentice.

He unsheathed his claws, fury pulsing through him.

“Claws sheathed!” Leopardstar yowled from the outskirts. He had forgotten she was there.

While he focused on Leopardstar Stormpaw had decided to get the jump on him.

Hawk was knocked over, a paw placed over his throat threateningly.

“I win.”

* * *

 

Hawk sat beside his mother, his face tucked in her scruff. Her sandy _(it looked like the sand beside the beach and faded into the bark of trees, he’d never forget never never never)_ fur soft beside him, welcoming him to her warmth.

He loved his mother so much.

“Hawkpaw,” he hated that name so much. Why couldn’t he be Hawk again? “Hawkpaw, you… you know I don’t belong here, right?”

What.

No. She belonged here as much as he did! He could swim, he could catch fish! Mother could learn to as well!

“But, but you can learn!” He reasoned frantically, “I learnt! You can too!”

Mother looked sad, not for herself, but for _him._

“Sweetie, I… you’re all grown now. You’ll be a full warrior within the moon, _you don’t need me.”_ No! He needed her! Why couldn’t she understand that!

“Yes! I do!” Before he could say all of his points, his mother interjected him.

“But you _shouldn’t.”_

He had no reply for that.

No one else was this attached to their mother.

“Hawkpaw…” she sighed, she looked so tired. “Hawkpaw… I’ll be leaving after your warrior ceremony.”

And that was that.

* * *

 

He tried to not pass the assessment. _He tried so hard._

But, just like everything else in life, he failed at that too.

He was Hawkfrost now.

And his mother was leaving tonight.

But… she said she’d visit.

* * *

 

After his and his sister’s (Mothwing now!) vigil, they went to sleep.

He did not sleep well.

The knowledge that when he awoke that his mother would be gone… it scared him.

No matter how much he searched, he wouldn’t find her. If he tore the ground up, if he ascended above the skies, if he ran forever; he would never find her.

_“I promise I’ll visit you two.”_

But she had promised.

She’d be back.

That’s all he could hope for.

* * *

 

If he didn’t have his mother, and he had drifted away from his sister, who was he?

* * *

 

Water flowed sluggishly in the river. It was as if it had been gravely wounded and was dragging itself towards salvation.

His eyes bore into the empty sky reflecting back at him. Clouds covered the stars above him, though he paid the darkness no mind.

Mud coated his paws. His previously white fur blended into the ground below him.

He could barely see his reflection in the water.

But he _needed to know._

_He needed to know if he still looked like Mother or not._

Did he have her colors for a pelt?

Her eyes?

 _(Sand sand her fur was sand why couldn’t he just_ remember _—)_

Bright blue eyes stared at him through the waters reflection. _Was that him? Was that Hawk? Was it Hawkfrost? Or was it_ no one?

Was he no one now? Did no one _care_? He mattered when others cared for him.

His mother had left him.

His sister hadn’t talked to him in months.

He had never made any friends.

He made his decision.

* * *

 

Hawkfrost walked back to the camp, unaware that Stormfur had seen his breakdown.

* * *

 

Hawkfrost was focused on his task. He must catch the fish in the river for his clan. They depended on him. They would die without him. _(Like Tadpole—drowning under the water, begging for help—)_

He couldn’t focus on the past. There was only now. And now implied answering Stormfur’s calls.

“Yes?” Normally vibrant blue eyes were fading into a duller shade.

Stormfur was hunting with him today, not that that _mattered_ though. Not in the long run.

“I thought I might hunt with you today,” he gestured at Hawkfrost’s, admittedly smaller body even though Stormfur was already _huge_ compared to the other cats in Riverclan. He must have inherited it from his father.

“Since you get all the best prey, after all. Right, Hawkfrost?”

Well, he couldn’t… _deny_ it. “I catch as much as I can, the same as any other warrior of Riverclan.” There. That was a proper response.

“Really? Then _how_ are you getting so much prey, huh? Are you stealing prey from others? You must be.” Stormfur scoffed, of course he didn’t believe Hawkfrost.

“Of course not, but you won’t believe me, will you? You’ll come hunting with me whether I consent or not. Won’t you, Stormfur?” Hawkfrost turned away to keep walking, ignoring Stormfur following behind him.

Silence reigned between the duo until they found a suitable spot along the river, teeming with fish. The scales of the fish glimmered in the sunlight, giving a wonderful array of colors to Hawkfrost’s eyes.

“So are you just gonna grab one and scare the rest away? So I won’t get any? Typical.”

He hadn’t even done _anything._

Hawkfrost ignored the tom, and got ready to dive into the river. Got ready to dive for fish.

His fur laid flat against his skin within seconds of meeting the water, becoming a second skin. Then it rose in the water, giving him an ethereal look.

Blue eyes glimmering in the light. Dark fur floating around him.

Too bad it only looked sort of odd from above.

Hawkfrost dove under the fish, treading slowly through the water. The water allowing him to slip through its grasp as if he himself was water as well.

He could feel his breath slowly escaping him. It didn’t matter. The fish continued to lazily bask in the sun, ignoring Hawkfrost as he grew near.

He struck quickly, grasping the fish in his mouth as he swam up above the water with his prize.

“What were you _doing?”_ Oh yeah, Stormfur. Forgot he was here. “You stayed under there long enough I thought I’d have to save you!”

“... But I caught the fish…” He muttered, feeling oddly sheepish at Stormfur’s worry for him.

“So what about the fish?” He stalked towards Hawkfrost, accidentally towering over Hawkfrost’s slim form. “What I _care_ about is _you_. Not some fish that will feed precisely one cat.”

”But… the clan needs the food…”

“And _your sister_ needs _you.”_

“She’s grown now… no one needs me.” Hawkfrost shivered at the intensity of Stormfur’s gaze on him. Paws crushed the mud underneath them as they padded closer to Hawkfrost.

“If no one needs you now… how about we make a deal?” Hawkfrost puffed up his chest, to try and hide the slight intimidation Stormfur had on him from sheer size. “You _try_ —just… _try_ to stop being so self-sacrificing… and I’ll be your friend.”

Stormfur's eyes softened, “I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

* * *

 

Hawkfrost, after placing two fish on the Fresh-Kill Pile, lumbered away under the shade of a nearby tree. Watching the prey he had contributed, watching, _waiting_ , to see who would eat what he caught for them.

What if no one ate it? It’d be _humiliating_ for him, watching everyone enjoy eating their fresh-kill while his rotted in the pile of other maggot-filled disappointments.

That was probably a metaphor towards himself, if he was being honest. Surrounded by warriors who refused to be better than they were, who had no ambition to be _better_. To rise above their station, to command those below them!

To sit on the leader’s rock and look down above their Clanmate’s and know, deep inside, that they were better than them.

That was all Hawkfrost yearned to be.

_To be someone everyone would look up to._

* * *

 

Stormfur’s amber eyes pierced through Hawkfrost, ignoring everything around them to focus completely on the tom in front of him.

 _“Hawkfrost,”_ Stormfur greeted him. “You haven’t eaten a bite of anything all day.”

A fish— _his fish_ —was tossed in front of him. “If you’re so worried about someone eating what you brought, then we’ll eat it. Together.”

Words came to his mind, _so many words he could be saying,_ but in the end he said none of them.

He took a bite of his fish, barely holding himself back from throwing it up immediately afterwards.

* * *

 

There was no warning when Stormfur left.

He had been pressured by him to eat nearly everyday since it had begun. Since they had become friends.

He had almost… enjoyed it. Enjoyed knowing that come time to eat Stormfur would show up by his side with a fish for them to share.

The first day without Stormfur was fine. All of his fresh-kill had been eaten, so he had allowed himself to eat.

Of course it didn’t last.

He had worked himself into a frenzy, thinking if he worked hard enough his friend would return.

Stormfur never came back.

* * *

 

Hawkfrost rarely ate nowadays.

When Stormfur was still there he had eaten everyday; now, it was a rarity if he ate enough to be normal for a single day in a quarter-moon.

When he finally collapsed and awoke in the medicine den, his sister looked at him with sad eyes.

“I hope you don’t show up here again, brother.”

“Of course I won’t.”

Her eyes betrayed that she didn’t believe him.

He showed up there again the next week.

* * *

 

Stormfur came back again, moons later.

_He hadn’t even looked for him, too deep in mourning of his sister._

With ribs sticking out like disease in fresh-kill, Hawkfrost stalked away from his only friend.

* * *

 

Sitting on the shore of the river, waves pounding at the rocks he sat upon, Hawkfrost allowed himself to feel the pain he’d been suppressing all day.

First, came the pain of hunger.

A pain burrowed behind his ribs, hiding in his lungs as he tried to breathe through it. It felt like he would bend over at any moment and try to hurl up whatever was left in his stomach.

As he laid on the rocks, listening to the repetitive splash of the waves, he allowed himself to try to focus off the pain.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if anyone would notice he was gone.

* * *

 

Waking up alone with only the stars for company was revelatory.

No one in Riverclan cared about him.

If he left one day, disappeared, would anyone remember him?

 _Of course they’d remember me,_ he thought. _But they’d only remember their perception of me._

_No one knows the real me._

It was a sobering thought.

“So you’re all the way out here, huh?” His fur was greyer than it had been before he had left. His face gaunter, his eyes darker.

He looked tired.

“I wondered where you ran off to, didn’t see you in the Warriors Den, and no one knows where you sneak off to.” Stormfur settles beside him, staring off at the moon and stars.

“... I missed you,” Hawkfrost admitted, refusing to look at the other, knowing amber eyes would squeeze the painful truth from his unwilling mouth. “You were there for me when no one was, not even my sister.”

“It seems…” Hawkfrost could feel his eyes tracing his protruding ribs, “no one is there even now.”

“So it seems,” he breathed out. The stars shone above him, resolute and absolute in their neglect of those not considered “special”.

* * *

 

Stormfur spent the next moon before they all began traveling fattening Hawkfrost up. He ate more than he was used to, eating at least once a day now.

Stormfur was satisfied when he couldn’t clearly tell Hawkfrost from all the other warriors beside him in the Warriors Den.

That is to say, he never was fully satisfied with Hawkfrost’s health. He always was squinting at his body, as if he knew full well what his ribs looked like and wanted to make sure no one else ever got to see them.

* * *

 

They traveled together to the Tribe, only taking breaks from one another when they both went to hunt.

Hawkfrost was looking much healthier now, whether it was because of his internal need to please his only friend, or a want to get better, neither knew.

* * *

 

Hawkfrost sat in the large cavern that made up the Tribe’s home. The waterfall overpowered any other sound in the cave, allowing anyone to sneak up on him.

Like an echo from the past, Stormfur sat beside him once more.

“Are we just going to keep having the same conversation, but in different areas?” Ice blue eyes caught on amber ones, neither looking away.

“No,” he murmured. “I think… I think this might be our last conversation, Hawkfrost.”

Claws dug into the rocks under his paws, “What? Why?”

Suddenly, he understood.

They were leaving the Tribe tomorrow.

Stormfur stayed silent, letting him draw his own conclusions for the moment.

“Who are you staying for?” He asked, turning to face his friend. “Feathertail?” He paced forward until he was chest-to-chest with the tom. “Or someone else?”

Stormfur sighed, staring deep into Hawkfrost’s soul. “Her name is Brook Where Small Fish Swim,” he finally looked away, unable to stare at his broken soul for too long. “And I think… I think I love her.”

Hawkfrost sighed, stepping away from him. He walked off, towards a stick coming out of the ground. “Then you must know, Stormfur,” he pawed at the stick, seeing it refused to move under pressure. “That you are my best, and only, friend.”

“But, if you leave me now,” his eyes turned to ice as he turned to stare at the tom. “Then that is the end, _our_ end. I will not allow you back into my life if you return.”

Stormfur pressed up behind him. “Okay.”

“This is our end.”

* * *

 

Hawkfrost stood alone by the lake.

As waves lapped against the rocks he stood upon, he awaited company.

But no one came.

* * *

 

The dreams began not long after they had all settled into their territories.

Dreams of being in an endless forest.

Dreams of his father.

* * *

 

“Your eyes… they’re the same as your mother’s.”

Mother? It had been… _moons_ since anyone, even his sister, had mentioned her in his presence. She hadn’t crossed his mind.

He didn’t care.

She had abandoned him.

But… just for now… just between him and his father…

“Really?”

“Of course. She had bright blue eyes like the sky, and so do you.”

A warmth seeped into Hawkfrost’s fur. But he didn’t care.

“Is… is there anything else?”

Tigerstar smiled, “Of course, you have her heart as well. Giving everything for those close to you.”

* * *

 

 _But she was so easy to manipulate because of that,_ Tigerstar never said.

And if Hawkfrost was so alike to his mother… he would be just as easy to control.

* * *

 

“Your mother loved independence… being free.” Tigerstar reminisced, laying beside his son under a tree. There was no sun to hide from, nor a shade to protect them. No wind stirred the leaves. All was quiet.

Hawkfrost was calmed by the stillness, how he had the power to disrupt the calm or to stay silent.

But he loved the tales of his mother more. She was brave, and powerful. She was everything Hawkfrost yearned to be.

“... How did you meet?”

“Hm… it’s a very odd tale.” Tigerstar looked into the far distance, looking inside of himself. He probably couldn’t remember too well. “She was brave, that I can admit.” The tom chuckled, looking past his son into the forest. “The two of us teamed up against foxes, though I had to save her in the end.” Amber eyes stared at Hawkfrost’s fur, tracing the details with his vision. “She was very brave, Hawkfrost.”

* * *

 

Setting up the trap for the Thunderclan leader wasn’t as hard as Hawkfrost had been led to believe. Tigerstar had explained it like it was the most challenging thing in the world.

All he had to do was find a traitor, explain the situation to him, and find a suitable area for the trap.

Easy.

Ashfur hadn’t done anything to prove himself a traitor to the warriors of Thunderclan, so Hawkfrost was thankful he had found him first.

The Riverclan warrior knew he hadn’t placed his trust in the wrong cat when Firestar himself stepped out of the foliage.

Hiding downwind on the other side of the river, Hawkfrost allowed himself to smile.

His first sacrifice for family.

Soon he would deserve his mother’s love.

* * *

 

Brambleclaw, his brother, stood in front of him, panic in his eyes and desperation in his paws. His claws dug into the earth as his eyes grew firm. He had made his decision.

As he geared up to finish off Firestar for his brother, he was surprised.

The stake wasn’t there.

As he turned around to look at Brambleclaw, he was stabbed in the throat.

_Oh._

_There it is._

* * *

 

As he choked on his own blood, he wondered if his father had planned this.

If he had known that Brambleclaw would never allow his leader to be killed. If he had thought Hawkfrost so undeserving of life he needed to _feel_ it leave him.

And feel it he did.

Blood dripped down his chest, staining his fur a deep red from the pure white it had once been.

As he watched, Brambleclaw realized what he had done. He had killed someone.

He had killed his brother.

Beside him, Hawkfrost watched as icy blue eyes, very reminiscent of Hawkfrost’s own, came into existence.

As fur began to fade into existence, Hawkfrost realized who it was he was seeing.

Sasha.

His mother.

As she looked down on him, almost sneering at him, he had a startling moment of realization.

_She was looking down on him._

As he died, he felt himself shattering once more, as if he was a kit watching his mother leave him once more.

* * *

 

Awakening in the Dark Forest was almost disheartening for him.

He had hoped for a second that an afterlife didn’t exist. If only so he didn’t have to face the fact that he had disappointed his mother.

_She no longer loved him._

* * *

 

Hawkfrost—instead of doing as his father wanted and searching him out—wandered in the infinite forest, as he could not in his dreams.

For the first time since he had left Stormfur, he wondered how he was doing. Almost regretted running him out of Riverclan when he had visited.

Well, it wasn’t like he could change the past.

* * *

 

He realized, belatedly, that hunger didn’t affect him in the Dark Forest. He probably would’ve starved to death otherwise, he knew. He hadn’t seen any prey the whole time he’d trekked through the forest.

It was calming, he realized, to have a whole forest to himself.

Complete isolation was nice sometimes.

* * *

 

Slowly, over a course of time Hawkfrost couldn’t measure, he realized what his goal truly was.

He wanted to find his mother.

He needed to find the barrier between Starclan and the Dark Forest.

And he had all of eternity to do it.

* * *

 

Hawkfrost sometimes—often—wondered how his friend was doing.

Did he have kits?

Was he still helping whoever he could, even if they didn’t want help?

He hoped he was doing good.

_He hoped Stormfur hadn’t forgotten him._

* * *

 

Upon finding the barrier, Hawkfrost settled down to wait.

He hadn’t realized until then that his mother wouldn’t just be _waiting_ there for him.

He wondered if they let rogues into Starclan.

He hoped.

He hoped, because otherwise what was he doing all of this for?

* * *

 

One day, as he waited his vigil for his mother, a rabbit ran past him. Just outside of the barrier.

He wondered if he could catch it.

He missed the adrenaline.

“How long have you been here, Hawkfrost?” Icy blue eyes stared into him, baring his soul to the world. The broken mess that it was.

“Too long,” his voice croaked from disuse. “Too long without you, mother.”

“You’re no son of mine.”

He flinched back from her, even knowing neither could pass the barrier he wanted distance between them.

“My son was the one who wanted _so desperately_ to be accepted he nearly killed himself for praise. _My son_ is the one who is best friends with Stormfur.”

With trembling feet, Hawkfrost turned away from his mother. As he stumbled back into the forest, he heard her departing words.

 _“You,_ who tried to kill someone else, _you are not my son.”_


End file.
